


While He Sleeps

by omega12596



Series: Dream On [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, M/M, Masturbation, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2013-07-12
Packaged: 2017-12-19 05:26:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/879947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omega12596/pseuds/omega12596
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kmeme prompt - OP had seen many Anders self-love to Fenris while the elf is oblivious and wanted a bit of turnabout. So, Fenris takes matters in hand while next to a sleeping Anders. Oh, and awkwardness. And smut :D</p>
            </blockquote>





	While He Sleeps

It was the smell that finally pushed Fenris over the edge.

Elfroot, lyrium, those alone would never be enough to have him trying to recall the worst of Danarius’ punishments if only so the throbbing between his legs would go away and he might finally sleep.

It’s the more subtle scent, of warm skin and ozone, both from the Abomination’s magic and from the hot sun of the Coast. It was the salt tang of clean sweat and the faint hint of honey and citrus from the soap Anders used. It was all of those, together, in the narrow confines of the small tent he’d been forced to share with the mage, which had Fenris in a state of painful, maddening arousal.

He listened to the mage’s breath deepen, small puffs of air coming from his mouth, and tried again to call up some horrible image, some terrible echo of the past. But memories of the magister refused to coalesce in his mind. Instead, there were flashes of the Abomination, grinning at something sexual (it was always sexual) Isabela had said. The way his brow pinched when he and Varric thought about inventive deaths for the Knight-Commander. The way his tall, lean frame looked when he called down fire from the sky, or poured lightning into their enemies.

Biting his lip, Fenris shifted on his pallet, feeling the slight press of Anders’ arm against his own. The heat rolling off the man made the elf’s skin prickle, and the hum of his magic echoed through Fenris’ brands inviting only more desire, more need, like the sensual tease of fingernails over sensitive flesh. Just thinking about Anders’ hands caressing the outline of his ears made Fenris’ hips twitch, his cock pounding its demand with every beat of his heart.

He risked a glance at the mage, found him to be utterly lost in sleep, as clueless now as at any other time his very presence created a churning, roiling maelstrom in the elf. For years, Fenris had hidden his powerful longing for Anders behind harsh jabs and acidic asides, made sure the loathing he held for all things magical was formed into a club with which to beat the Abomination any chance he got.

No one knew how much Fenris hated himself for his hypocrisy, for the paralyzing fear that continued to choke him and hold him prisoner. The years of running ingrained in the elf a habit of survival that he could not seem to change, but looking at Anders, he wanted to change it so badly he could taste it.

Because he wanted Anders more than anything he’d ever wanted. He wanted the mage for his own. Perhaps the ex-Warden was the first thing he’d ever coveted, perhaps it was simply so many years of desire, but either way, his feelings terrified and elated him, but he could not act on them. He refused to let anyone have that kind of power over him, a power he hadn’t ever relinquished before, not even to Danarius.

Anders shifted in his sleep, the fingers of his hand brushing against Fenris’ thigh and the elf shuddered. He couldn’t take any more! Trapped he was: For if he tried to leave, surely the mage would wake and there was no way to hide his arousal. Even if he managed to get out, Varric would notice him from his watch post and again, the long, thick length of his erect cock would be hard to miss even in the low light of the fire.

Turning a bit, pressing his shoulders flush to the ground, Fenris slowly undid the laces over his cock, and took himself in hand. It wouldn’t take long, with the mage this close, the scent of him so deep in the elf’s lungs he’d be reminded of the smell for days. Anders’ warm breath, softly stirring his hair, had Fenris on the edge of release even before his fingers made contact.

He closed his eyes and wrapped his hand around the base of his length, slowly drawing upward, palm gliding over lyrium veins, pulling soft skin over steel core. Twisting his wrist, Fenris circled the wide head of his cock, the pressure firm, fingers gathering the copious slick of precome flowing from the tip. Maker it felt so good, and in his mind’s eye, he imagined Anders waking, watching Fenris please himself.

The elf’s hips lifted and his neck arched, he could hear the mage telling him to go slow, to tease himself, to squeeze hard and pull up, drawing more liquid need from his cock. 

_That’s it, Fenris. Maker, your cock is amazing. I love to watch you do this, knowing how hot you get, making you fuck yourself until you’re almost there..._

Fenris had to fight back a whimper as his imagination took off like a brush fire. He brought his other hand up to tease his nipples through his shirt, pulling the tiny points hard, making his balls draw up.

_Not yet. I want to taste you first. I’m going to suck that beautiful cock until you beg to come, Fenris. Then I’m going to push deep into your ass and fuck you until neither of us can walk._

Anders’ imagined words were all it took for Fenris to explode, the idea of the mage swallowing his cock and taking his ass too much for his overexcited body. His back bowed, though Fenris fought to keep himself still, and he pulsed, once, twice, thrice and again, hand never stopping, pulling every last bit of come and more, continuing to stroke until the sensation was almost painful. He swallowed hard, satisfied yet aching for still more.

Tucking himself away, Fenris tried to ignore the shaking of his limbs. Relaxed, if still humming with desire, Fenris rolled a bit to face Anders and froze at what he saw. There, at the edge of the mage’s mouth, was a shining, silken dollop of pleasure. Unsure what to do, Fenris stared at the spot and felt his cock rise all over again at the sight of his seed on Anders’ face.

Knowing he would never sleep if it remained, the elf reached out to wipe away the evidence of his secret, but when he rolled, he jostled the mage, whose eyes fluttered open.

Amber frowned sleepily. “Mnfp-enris? What?”

It was a reflex, and before the elf could stop himself, he made a brushing motion at his own face, mirroring the spot of spend on Anders' cheek.

The mage grunted and swiped the fluid, thinking it was drool no doubt, fingers coated with seed drifting over full, pink lips in passing, before curling against his palm. When Anders notched his hand beneath his chin, Fenris inhaled loudly. 

He stared at the human, praying to the Maker and more, that that would be all. A near thing, heart stopping near, but his secret would remain safe. And then Anders tongue licked over that faint smear on his lower lip. The mage hummed, tasted again, a faint smile curving up one corner of his mouth for just a moment, before a frown began to pinch his face once more.

Amber eyes flew open, tangled with evergreen for the beat of a heart, before Fenris flipped onto his other side. He held his body utterly still, kept his breathing soft and steady only by counting out a rhythm in his head. 

Anders didn’t say anything and eventually Fenris fell into a fettered, restless sleep, his dreams haunted by a pink tongue and the spark of realization he’d seen in the Abomination’s eyes the moment before he’d turned away.

* * *

Anders stared at the back of Fenris’ skull, the taste of the elf filling his mouth and making it hard to breath. And he had no doubt it was the lyrium-veined male that coated his palate and filled his senses.

_What in the Black City just happened?_

Unfurling the hand beneath his chin, Anders felt a cool stickiness on the edge of his palm. He brought his flesh close, eyes blinking hard in the low light, trying to see. Viscous remnants shone on his skin and without a thought, he passed his tongue over the quickly cooling fluid.

Lyrium, faintly, and salt but definitely seed. He had to admit, the elf tasted better than most men. Anders blushed at the thought, equal parts embarrassment and anger, and bit his tongue to stop from demanding to know why, exactly, the elf couldn’t have held off on pleasing himself.

Especially since Anders had been damn near pressed against him.

Maker, how was he going to look at Fenris in the morning? Based on how quickly the elf rolled over, that might not be a problem. He bit his lip to still the chuckle trying to free itself from his throat. _This is ludicrous!_ He shifted again, overly aware of how close he and the elf were. 

Images, fantasies Anders had conjured over the years of his acquaintance with the ex-slave flitted through his mind, but he pushed them away. It was stressful enough being forced to travel with Fenris, to occasionally find himself in extremely close quarters. He didn’t need an erection to boot.

He knew the elf wasn’t sleeping, despite the soft, even breathing. The tension in the tiny tent was so palpable Anders felt it vibrating against his skin. Sweet Andraste, how was he supposed to handle what he’d... tasted? What he knew Fenris had done, while he’d been lost in dreams?

Anders turned his head to look at Fenris’ back again. _Bloody void take the elf!_ The mage had worked hard to pretend Fenris’ cruelty didn’t bite, to ignore the powerful (and he’d believed one-sided) attraction, and though those things occasionally broke free of his will to suppress them, he thought he was doing much better lately.

But now? Now when the only thing Anders could imagine was that Fenris had been overwhelmed with the need to fuck something he’d taken himself in hand because the hunger was too much... Anders wanted to throttle the bastard.

“Anders, you’re up.” Varric stood outside the flap. 

It was his turn to take watch. “Thank the Maker.” The ex-Warden couldn’t leave the tent fast enough.


End file.
